


drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar

by simpleethebest



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Drunk David Rose, Drunken Confessions, M/M, the drinking happens off screen and is not excessive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26806336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simpleethebest/pseuds/simpleethebest
Summary: David Rose, it turns out, is a cuddly drunk.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & David Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 35
Kudos: 220





	drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Point_of_no_return](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Point_of_no_return/gifts).



> This is my first finished fic for Schitt's Creek! It's a prompt fill for the lovely @Point_of_no_return. She wanted to see David telling Patrick he loves him in his sleep.
> 
> This work is unbeta'd and English is my second language, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (The title is from Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift)

David Rose, it turns out, is a cuddly drunk.

Patrick had gotten glimpses of it here and there, whenever they went to the Wobbly Elm with Stevie or had drinks with Ted and Alexis at the slightly more upscale bar in Elm Grove. It would start with a hand on Patrick’s shoulder or a few chaste kisses peppered in as they talked, and then maybe move on to a gentle, absentminded caressing of Patrick’s thigh, to David leaning against him with his head on Patrick’s shoulder and playing with his fingers as the night wore on. 

Patrick has absolutely zero complaints about it - he’s always enjoyed physical affection, even when he’d dated women. And now that he’s dating not just men, but _David Rose_ , his love for physical touch, even small, chaste touches like these, make Patrick’s heart beat a little faster every time.

Tonight, as they’re driving home from dropping off Stevie after a night at the karaoke bar near Elm Valley, David is in the passenger side with his forearm resting on Patrick’s seat, his fingers running slowly through Patrick’s hair. It’s a pleasant sensation, if a little ticklish, and Patrick feels the goosebumps rising on his skin whenever David grazes his scalp just right.

They keep a comfortable silence for most of the drive, their heads still full of the music from the bar and their throats a little sore from their own singing and cheering. It was a fun night - David sang no less than eight songs (only five of which were Mariahs, surprisingly), getting louder and gradually divesting himself of the techniques a lifetime of dueting with Moira Rose had left with him as the night wore on and the drinks were refilled. 

Patrick himself had only had one beer early on in the night, knowing he’d be the designated driver, but he’d still managed to sing a couple songs himself and a duet with David and Stevie each.

Now, the voice coming from the radio is soft and mellow, the acoustic arrangement filling the car with a hazy, cozy atmosphere. The street lights flood in and out through the windows, washing them in that warm yellow light and then plunging them into darkness as they drive past them.

They’re a few minutes away from home when Patrick realizes David’s arm has dropped and now rests limp on the space between their seats. He chances a brief glance at his boyfriend and can’t help but smile at the sight of a sleeping David Rose, his head somehow managing to stay nestled between the headrest and the window.

A warm, delicate feeling settles in in his chest as he drives on through the night.

* * *

  
It takes some coaxing to get David to wake up and exit the car once they reach Ray’s. Once he does, however, the cold nighttime air seems to wipe away the drowsiness and leaves him with nothing but his inebriated state. He presses up against Patrick when he fumbles to get the keys in the lock, peppering in kisses on his cheeks and neck and giggling when Patrick drops his keys as a result. Eventually, though, they do make it into the house. They stumble a little through the unlit entrance but fortunately manage to make it to the stairs without a hitch.

Twice, Patrick has to silence David’s sudden need to continue the night of karaoke on the way up to his bedroom with a kiss or two. Not that he doesn’t like David’s singing; he does, and the drunk version of it is somehow even more entertaining to witness, but he doesn’t want to risk waking Ray. The man sleeps like a rock, which has proven _very_ advantageous in past visits from David, but even he must draw the line somewhere around his tenant’s boyfriend’s drunk rendition of My All halfway up the stairs.

Patrick closes the door behind them once they finally reach his bedroom. “Come on, David, let’s get you ready for bed, okay?”

David doesn’t seem to hear him, still humming along to the chorus and swaying with his eyes closed in the middle of the room. Patrick smirks and walks up behind him, helping David out of his jacket and laying it gently on the back of the chair at his desk.

“Mmmmm are you trying to get me naked, Mister Brewer?” David asks with a glint in his eye, turning around to fully face Patrick before doing one of those full body shimmies that Patrick finds simultaneously ridiculous and inexplicably charming. “Because I am aaaaall for that, you know.”

Patrick smiles but shakes his head. “Nope, I’m just trying to get you in your pajamas.”

David giggles at that. “So you’re trying to get me to slip into _something a little more comfortable_? ‘S that what it is?” Patrick guides him backwards until David's knees hit the edge of the bed and he falls into a sitting position, then kneels in front of him and begins to undo his shoelaces.

“We’re just getting ready for bed, that’s all.”

David lets out a louder string of giggles at that.

“What’s so funny, huh?” Patrick asks, a hint of laughter in his own voice. 

“You’re- you’re trying to get me in bed.”

“Oh my god.”

“You just admitted-ed it! Admitted it. It. Admitteded. It. _Oh my god_.”

“I _am_ trying to get you in bed-” he rolls his eyes fondly at David’s resulting giggles, “- but only to sleep. You better believe that’s all we’re doing while you’re... like this,” he gestures encompassingly at David, who scoffs, the offense clear on his face.

“M’sorry, like what? Exactly?”

Patrick can’t help but lean forward and press a quick peck to David’s pout. “Like drunk, that’s what.”

“Oh, my god, I am _not_ drunk!” The way David’s entire body sways with his arm gestures quite starkly contradicts his words.

“Yeah, okay, David,” Patrick snorts and sets David’s boots at the foot of the bed.

“I’m not! _If_ I was drunk could I do _this_?”

David stands and crosses the room on unsteady feet to his overnight bag on Patrick’s desk. Rooting around in it for a moment, he extracts his toiletry kit with a triumphant “Aha!” and makes his way out into the hall and to the bathroom.

Patrick shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips, and takes this opportunity to change into his pajamas and begin to straighten up his room for the night. 

He’s surprised when, not even two minutes later, he hears a knock on the door and looks over to see David sheepishly peeking his head in.

“Patrick?”

Patrick’s brow furrows in concern at David’s hushed tone. “David? You okay?”

“Patrick. I was lying,” he stage-whispers. “Well. No. I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“I think I’m, um. Maybe. A little bit drunk.”

Patrick breaks into a chuckle at that. “Oh, you definitely are, David. It’s alright. Come here.”

David sneaks the rest of the way in the door and closes it behind him. “‘M only saying that ‘cause I can’t remember if my vitamin C serum goes on before my moisturizer? Or if I have to put it on after my sunscreen. And it’s just really confusing and also I’m tired n’ I wanna sleep.”

“Well, it’s two in the morning, David,” he says with a quick glance at the clock on his nightstand. “I don’t really think you need sunscreen right now.” Patrick takes the toiletry kit from David’s hands and sets it down on the desk before guiding his boyfriend to sit on the edge of the bed. “How much of your routine did you get through?”

“‘M too tired to do the whole thing,” he whines, pouting and throwing his head back. “I used the micellar thingy. To cleanse. And, um. I think I put the vitamin C on and-” David interrupts himself with some giggles and falls back onto the bed, his feet still on the ground, and _god_ , he’s adorable. “And that’s when I forgot the order. Of the things.”

“I see.” Patrick roots around David’s toiletry bag. If he knows one thing about David’s skincare routine, it’s that he never goes without his eucalyptus under eye serum, especially after a night out.

“The skin things. Patrick.”

“Yeah, the skin things are hard to keep straight.” He finds the tiny container of serum and makes his way to sit on the bed next to David.

David giggles again at that, harder this time. “ _You’re_ hard to keep straight.”

“Oh I know,” Patrick replies as he opens the serum and begins to apply it gently to the soft skin under David’s eyes. “I tried to keep straight for thirty years. Didn’t really work.”

David laughs even harder and it’s a beautiful sight. Sober David tends to cover up his most earnest smiles and deepest laughs, insecure for some reason Patrick can’t even begin to imagine, let alone understand. He pulls his hand back as David laughs and laughs, caught up in staring at his beautiful smile and crinkly eyes and messy hair and something in Patrick’s chest feels like it’s going to _burst_ with how head over heels he is for this man.

He can’t help but bend forward and capture David’s lips in his. David’s still laughing so there’s a bit too much teeth, and they’re at a weirdly perpendicular angle since Patrick’s sitting at David’s side, and all in all it’s not exactly the sexiest kiss they’ve shared, but it still manages to send an electric charge of pleasure up and down Patrick’s spine.

He pulls back and looks down at David, and David looks up at him with the odd chuckle here and there bubbling up out of him. They stare at each other for a moment longer, and Patrick can’t help but feel... _Right_. 

The thought could be enough to bowl Patrick over if he lets it, so he shakes his head instead, bookmarking it for later analysis, and gathers a bit more serum on the tip of his finger. “Okay baby, I need you to stay still for a minute for me, okay? Let me just finish putting this on you and then we’ll get you in your pajamas and go to bed.”

David closes his eyes and nods, that adorable tilted smile still on his lips. “Yeah, mhmm. Yup.”

Patrick smoothes the product on David’s lower lids, gentle and soft. He can’t keep his eyes from roaming over the man’s face; he really is just so fucking gorgeous.

Eventually though, even he has to admit he’s applied about as much serum as he reasonably can, so he closes the little container and tosses it in the toiletry bag on his desk. The resulting clink does nothing to rouse David from his deeply relaxed state, and upon closer inspection it’s clear to Patrick that the man has fallen asleep.

Patrick shakes his head fondly, lifting his hand to caress David’s cheek.

“David?” he whispers, to no response. Pressing the softest hint of a kiss to David’s cheek, he tries again.

“David.”

“Hhmmph.”

A kiss to the other cheek. To his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, the corner of his lips.

“David, wake up.”

David’s face twists into a bratty little pout, eyes still closed.

“Hhhnnm. Fuck off.”

“Babe, let me get your clothes off, okay? You can’t sleep in jeans.” He’s given up on getting David in pajamas - he’ll settle for his boxer briefs and undershirt at this point.

David is now officially too sleepy to make terrible innuendos, apparently, but he does let Patrick undo his pants and lift his hips just enough for him to slide them down and off. With his eyes still mostly closed, he slowly sits up and lifts his arms so Patrick can remove the thin grey sweater he wore tonight under his leather jacket. Patrick watches David crawl slowly up the bed and under the covers as he gently folds the sweater and puts it on the desk.

He settles in on his side next to David, both of them facing each other as a result.

“Patrick.”

“Hmm?”

“Patriiiiiick. Pat. Rick.”

“Yeah, David. I’m right here.”

Eyes still closed, David’s hand shuffles around under the sheets until it bumps into one of Patrick’s, then brings it up closer. It’s not so much a kiss as it is just a press against his lips, but Patrick can’t keep the besotted smile off his face either way.

“Thanks f’r taking care’me. Patrick.”

Patrick chuckles lightly. At this point, he can’t tell if David’s slurring is the consequence of that fifth Old Fashioned David had at the bar or simply how tired he is, but it’s adorable either way. “It’s no problem.”

“You’re s’good to me Patrick.”

“It’s my pleasure, David.” Patrick pulls their intertwined hands up to his own lips now, closing his eyes as he presses a kiss to the back of David’s. “Goodnight.”

“Mmmmmgoodnight. Love you.”

Patrick’s eyes snap back open. His entire body stills to a halt; he doesn’t even breathe. He looks up at David, whose eyes are closed as he rubs his cheek into the pillow under his head, looking for all the world as if he didn’t just say. Well. _Those_ words.

Is this just a side effect of Cuddly Drunk David? Is he also the kind of drunk that tells everyone within hearing distance he loves them? Patrick’s met plenty of those, too. Then again, David did tell him a while ago that he’s only said those words to his parents and Mariah Carey, so that seems unlikely.

Maybe he just misheard. Or maybe David just fell asleep before he could finish his sentence, maybe he was about to say “Love you...r under eye eucalyptus serum application technique, Patrick, thanks so much for putting it on me.”

Or.

Maybe not.

Maybe... Maybe David means them. The words. 

They’ve never said them to each other before. They’ve only been dating a few months - isn’t it supposed to be too soon for all that? That’s what everyone says, anyway - all the movies and magazines and well meaning friends would say Patrick should be freaked out by hearing them now, that he should be running for the hills and dodge a very clingy bullet.

Then again... Patrick would be lying if he said his thoughts hadn’t been skirting around the words for weeks now. Prodding at them, trying them on for size. Liking them more and more each time they flew into his mind.

So the fear, the _too soon too much nope not ready not yet_.... that’s not what he feels at all. And he’s familiar enough with the feeling, having been a constant in his life for the decade and a half he was with Rachel. He would recognize it if it were to rear its ugly head again.

So the thought that David might mean those words, even in this sleepy, drunken state he’s in... well, damn if it doesn’t fill Patrick with a tsunami of emotions, of elation and pride and apprehension and confidence and insecurity and a warm, molten gold of a feeling that begins somewhere behind his sternum and radiates out to every corner of his body in a way that simultaneously excites him and steadies him.

If Patrick knows David like he thinks he does, then he knows that even if David does feel that way about him, he’s not ready to say it for real yet. Maybe he never will be. David’s past holds nothing but terrible people who didn’t deserve him, who made him believe he was worthless, that love would never be something he’d get to experience. Patrick hopes David will be able to heal from all of that, but he can’t know for sure that he will. So if... If David meant what he said, if it was born from somewhere deep within him and only surfaced after a true loss of inhibition, Patrick can’t be sure that David’s even aware of it yet.

Patrick closes his eyes and touches his forehead to his and David’s hands, still entwined.

He doesn’t know anything for sure. Maybe he was right initially and this all means nothing. But maybe not.

So he makes a promise right then and there to David. To himself. He will always - _always_ \- do everything in his power to prove himself worthy of those two little words that escaped David’s lips on a sleepy night when his walls were down and his doors were open and the barbed wire he usually kept around his heart had melted away.

And if and when David is ready to say them for real... Well. Patrick will take the words carefully, reverently, and make sure David knows that he will treat them with care.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought of this! Respectful and constructive criticism is always welcome. Thanks for reading!


End file.
